


Everyday at eleven

by Imjohnlocked87



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Comfort, Coronavirus, Don't copy to another site, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff and Humor, Games, John Watson is a Good Parent, M/M, Original Character(s), Parentlock, Quarantine, Science, Sherlock is a Good Parent, Webcams, exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23780536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imjohnlocked87/pseuds/Imjohnlocked87
Summary: During quarantine, every day at eleven o'clock the pace of London seems to slow down even more, becoming a gosht-city. This strange phenomenon not only happens in London but in the rest of the country, to the bewilderment of Lestrade and the rest of the Yards.By chance, they will discover this fact has a lot to do with the clumsiness of a certain doctor when it comes to using webcams...
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 22
Kudos: 176
Collections: Isolated Johnlock Collection, Social Media Fics





	Everyday at eleven

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Cada día a las once (Every day at eleven)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26838229) by [RRipley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RRipley/pseuds/RRipley)



It was Sally Donovan who first realized it and told Lestrade and the rest of her colleagues, but none of them took much notice. Greg was in no mood for guessing. For a week, he and his team had been spending ten hours a day, making sure that the drivers they met didn't break through the confinement.

It was not their area, but neither Lestrade nor any of his team hesitated in a second to get down to work on any task assigned to them to help combat a pandemic that, like a wave, spread around the world, disrupting citizens' daily lives. At first only with a series of security measures (washing their hands regularly, maintaining a safe distance ...) and now, confined to their houses and only being able to go out to do the shopping, work if they could not do so from home, take the dog out or accompany an older adult.

But on the fourth day of being in the same square stopping drivers and asking them where they were going and if it was justified when Donovan repeated it, Lestrade realized she was right.

Because, in fact, every morning, at eleven, traffic went from minimal to non-existent, the few passers-by disappeared, and even the activity in supermarkets, shops, warehouses, and the rest of the businesses that were still open slowed down a little. The only exception was the hospitals, where the fight against the virus continued relentlessly, but even the sick who were already recovering seemed calmer during those two hours. In short, it was not known why, but the city, at that time of the day, became a ghost town.

None of them found an explanation for it, but, as far as he knew by other colleagues in other areas of London or other cities, the same phenomenon was present in all of them. And no one knew why until they discovered it on the fourth day, thanks to lunchtime.

That morning, they went to the place where they bought the snacks to spend the day. They usually went later, almost at two o'clock, but that day Donovan was in a dog's mood (more than usual), and Lestrade decided to go and eat something to see if a little sugar would sweeten the sergeant's character a bit.

When they came into the shop at five to eleven, the waitress looked at them sideways, with a pout of displeasure, which surprised the DI, because she was usually nice, smiling, and liked to make conversation with the Yards. One bad day, he supposed. And who didn't have them in that situation…

"We want four sandwiches of..." Donovan started.

The woman glared at her.

"Couldn't you wait for a little?"

"What's the matter? You got something better to do?" sneered the sergeant, looking at the empty room.

Greg frowned.

"Martha, we don't want to bother you if you're busy..."

She smiled.

"It's no bother. Just... well, if you're not too busy, you can stay and watch it. I usually watch it on the computer, but I'll turn on the TV."

"You want us to come to watch TV with you?" Donovan grunted.

"You could use it, see if you can get rid of that sourpuss character of yours," the woman replied.

Without saying anything else, Martha connected a cable from the computer to the TV and smiled. She made coffee and scones for everyone. The officers, not entirely understanding what was going on, sat at the bar, and stared at the screen.

"It's starting!" clapped the woman "this is from the first day, but they've left it as an introduction."

"From the first day?"

"Yes, nobody knows how it got on the Internet, nor who edits it, because it's edited, but it's great" she looked at them, amazed "Haven't you watched it? That's what all of London is doing at this hour! Oops, now!"

A black bumper with white letters appeared on the screen:

_Quarantine at Baker Street. Day twenty-five._

Lestrade and the others gaped to see the image of Dr. John Watson sitting in his armchair in Baker Street typing on his computer.

Lestrade smiled. John looked well. He caught the coronavirus when working more than fourteen hours a day in the hospital. He had mild symptoms, but until fourteen days had passed since his recovery, and the tests were negative, he could not return to the hospital. Rosie and Sherlock went through it too, the girl unwittingly and the detective grumbling about being sick, even though his symptoms were also mild.

John finished typing and got off the couch.

"Are you sure you don't need help, John?" They heard Sherlock's voice off the screen.

"For the umpteenth time, Sherlock, I don't need it. Do you think I don't know how to activate a webcam?"

"Activate it, yes. What I'm afraid of is that we'll end up on the BBC".

John sighed exasperatedly.

"No one's going to see it. It's just for us. Our quarantine diary. Do you like the idea, Rosie?"

"Yes, yes, yes, yes," cried the little four-year-old Rosie.

"It's ready now. I've blocked the signal so that only we can see it," announced John.

"I'll bet you an ice-cream cone we will be on the BBC," whispered Sherlock to Rosie, who laughed, amused.

"Sherlock!"

Lestrade turned to Martha.

"What the hell is this?"

"You heard him, quarantine at Baker Street. Basically, how they get past the quarantine. According to the Internet, Dr. Watson inadvertently connected the signal to his blog, and from there to the webcams, they must have in the living room or the kitchen, I don't know. But it's a lot of fun".

"Funny? Seeing the quarantine freak?"

"More than listening to you for sure, my dear."

The image changed, and a new bumper appeared.

_Are you done?_

Sherlock was lying on the couch, with a magazine over his face, and visible signs of boredom.

The woman laughed out loud and wrote something down on a piece of paper. Lestrade, Donovan, and the rest looked at her in amazement.

"You've just missed the beginning. Every day, the girl does an hour's homework. The first day she did it with Mr. Holmes".

Greg bit his lips in order not to laugh. If there was one thing, Sherlock hated it was being called Mr. Holmes, because that was how everyone referred to Mycroft.

"But he made such a fuss about her homework, saying it was for idiots, that the girl would not learn anything from it and he would organize it… So the doctor threw him out of the room where the girl was doing it. From that day on, the doctor does not allow him to be with the girl while she is doing her homework, or to correct it, or anything like that. He doesn't seem to be doing well at all, because he spends the whole time like this, on the couch".

"And you're watching him lie down for an hour?"

Martha laughed.

"Of course not, but there's a chat room where you can bet on how long Mr. Holmes' irritation will last. That's why every day they bring him out. So we know who's already lost and who hasn't."

"Can I make a bet?" asked Lestrade.

"Sir!" Donovan reconvened him.

"What?! We'd make a killing. I know exactly when he'll get over it. When Rosie finishes college,".

The woman laughed her head off.

"I put in when the girl does her doctorate. Because she's brilliant, and I'm sure she will."

A new bumper came out.

" _What's the Movie?"_

The woman clapped her hands.

"Do they play movies?" Donovan asked, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, yes, but not like we all play. They're great. I wish I have had parents like that".

They heard Sherlock and John whispering outside the screen. Even though they pricked up their ears, they couldn't understand what they were saying.

Rosie was sitting on the couch, waiting. The coffee table had been set up in the middle of the living room, and one of Rosie's tea sets had been placed on it. Around it, six of the girl's low chairs, on five of them a stuffed animal. John entered the living room and sat down on the sixth. Rosie laughed out loud, amused, and Lestrade and the others couldn't help but smile.

John was sitting down, very serious. He was wearing the jacket of his camouflage uniform. On it, an orange apron and tilted over his head, he wore Rosie's little purple hat. The girl clapped her hands, laughing, and waited.

The doctor, pretending to be drunk, took the toy teapot, squeezed the empty cup in one gulp, and poured himself another.

Soon after, Sherlock trotted into the room, wearing a black cowboy hat and a red scarf tied around his neck cowboy style. The detective approached John and knelt beside him.

"What happened to you?" he asked, worriedly, in a nasal tone. 

"One minute you're defending the whole galaxy..." slurred John and pointed at the furred pets ..." and suddenly you find yourself suckin' down Darjeeling with Marie Antoinette and her little sisters," he whispered with a sinister chuckle. 

Rosie laughed heartily, while Sherlock and John made evident efforts not to burst out laughing too. It was clear the girl already knew what film it was, but she enjoyed the performance too much to say so.

"I think you've had enough tea today," said Sherlock taking the teapot out of John's hand." Let's get you out of here, Buzz."

"Don't you get it?! You see the hat? I am Mrs. Nesbit!!" John faked a burst of hysterical laughter. "The hat looked good. Tell me the hat looked good! The apron is a bit much, it's not my color..." the dramatic tone dissipated, and he ended the sentence with laughter.

John hit Sherlock in the arm. The detective's body shook to the rhythm of the laughter he was trying to conceal, hiding his face in his hands. He finally managed to pull himself together, got up, and pulled John towards the living room window, followed by an amused Rosie.

"Years of Academy training...wasted!!" sobbed John between waves of laughter, letting himself be dragged down by Sherlock.

"Toy Story!" cried Rosie, clapping her hands, enthusiastically, as John and Sherlock bowed, taking off their hats. John gave Rosie hers. Sherlock put it back on and walked to the kitchen to prepare three glasses of orange juice, followed by John.

"Don't lose your hat, cowboy, you've got a wild horse to ride tonight," whispered John naughtily, slapping the detective's arse, who shouted, "yiiiiihaaaa" and trotted back into the living room to help Rosie remove the tea set.

To say Donovan and the rest of the Yards were petrified was an understatement. None of them believed what they had just seen. Lestrade, for his part, was laughing with the shop girl. He knew all the detective's harshness disappeared the moment Rosie entered the picture.

But before they could recover, a new bumper appeared:

" _Science time!"_

"Oooh," exclaimed the woman. "You will see, Mr. Holmes makes experiments that are safe for the girl. They are simple but interesting and entertaining."

"Safe?"

"Yes, the doctor has forbidden him to do those that could be dangerous for her. It seems," she continued in confidence, "he does some pretty weird experiments at home.

"You should see the fridge in 221C," Lestrade thought.

Because in 221B, there was nothing unusual about a fridge anymore. No thumbs, no eyeballs, no other animal organs scattered around the house. Since Rosie's arrival, everything disappeared. The detective rented 221C and moved his lab there out of desperation for John. It was much bigger than their kitchen, and he had installed, in addition to all the lab equipment, a refrigerator, and a freezer. As he told Lestrade, he felt chills just thinking about what could be in there.

Sherlock, Rosie, and John stood around the kitchen table. Sherlock picked up a white china plate, on which was a drawing of a seafloor: a line on which appeared a couple of blue plants and bubbles and under it a turtle, a couple of shells and a starfish, all very colorful.

"Rosie's done this drawing before with permanent markers, right?"

The girl nodded, excited, and John pressed his lips, glaring at the detective, who blatantly ignored him. Lestrade chuckled. It was not the first time he almost had to skin her daughter's hands to remove the remains of that marker.

"And now she's going to draw whatever she wants with a non-permanent whiteboard pen."

Rosie nodded again and focused, began to draw a jellyfish between the green algae and blue bubbles. A semicircle to make the body of the jellyfish and then four long wavy tentacles coming out of it.

"Since the pigments in the marker are not permanent," explained the detective as Rosie finished drawing," we're going to make the drawing come alive."

When Rosie finished, she passed the plate to Sherlock, who took a pipette and began pouring water with it around the edges of the jellyfish surrounding the drawing. The water brushed against one of the tentacles that Rosie drew.

"A little paw is moving!" cried the girl, incredulous and exhilarated.

Before Sherlock gave her a lecture on the difference between legs, paws, and tentacles, John covered the detective's mouth with his hand and urged him to continue, raising his eyebrows while gesturing his head.

The detective breathed in sharply, undoubtedly fighting the urge to explain it.

"The water is already reaching the drawing, and because of the surface tension of the water, it is taking the pigment out of the plate. Do you remember what surface tension is, Rosie?"

"It's a property of the surface of a liquid that allows it to resist an external force due to the cohesive nature of the water molecules." answered the girl, as casually as if she were answering her favorite color.

Sherlock looked like he was about to burst with pride. John's face, apart from a similar pride as the detective, also showed absolute stupefaction.

Little by little, as Sherlock filled in the drawing of the jellyfish bell with water, it did indeed seem to come to life, as Rosie's lines floated over the water precisely as she had drawn them.

Then, Sherlock took a water bottle in which he had punched a hole in the plastic cap and started pouring some on the plate's sides. As he did so, the jellyfish began to slide on the water, moving, indeed, around the plate, without ever losing the shape drawn by Rosie. He swung the dish carefully. The jellyfish traveled across it, under Rosie's enormously open and surprised eyes, John's no less amazed and the astonished gaze of Lestrade and the rest.

"Papa!" screamed Rosie. "You are a genius!"

John at home and Lestrade in the shop laughed at the detective, who swelled with pride at his daughter's compliment.

The picture went black and a new bumper appeared.

" _Work out time"_

"Oh..., my favorite," the woman laughed and blushed, slightly embarrassed.

Donovan snorted, understanding why when John appeared in the room wearing only a pair of sport shorts, his muscular, tanned body visible all over.

"Now that's a motivation for exercise," Martha laughed.

The sergeant pouted in displeasure when the doctor wore an old army T-shirt that didn't fit as tightly as she would have liked. He grabbed a pair of dumbbells, and Rosie walked in, wearing a purple T-shirt (her new favorite color) and a gray legging, with her blond hair tied in a ponytail. She was wearing dumbbells just like John's, made of foam rubber.

"The little girl was so keen to have dumbbells like her parents that the doctor made those for her." explained Martha.

"And why don't they give him some half-kilo ones?" Lestrade asked.

"Apparently, being so small, she shouldn't use weights," replied the woman, clearly a fan of the show.

The last one to enter the scene was Sherlock, wearing only black shorts and a grey tank top. Donovan made a gesture of approval at the slim body, with muscles drawn all over his body wrapped in that pale skin.

The three of them began to march in place to warm up, and then any of them produced a skipping rope, a purple one Rosie and John and Sherlock black ones. They jumped over it, first at a slow pace and then increasing speed.

The image jumped to the Sherlock, John, and Rosie, happily jumping into the air, expanding their legs and arms in a large "X" shape in the air. When they were at the height of the jump, they shouted I'm a STAR!, making Rodie giggling.

In the next scene, John, Sherlock, and Rosie were doing push-ups, John counting, one., two, three....; when he reached ten, Rosie moved to the couch, and Sherlock and John kept doing them. Next scene, the doctor count reached fifty, and Sherlock stood up.

A new cut. John was still making push-ups, counting one hundred sixty, one hundred sixty-one, one hundred sixty-two… with Rosie sitting astride his back. The doctor easily lowered and lifted his body at a quick path, while Rosie held on to the doctor's t-shirt so she wouldn't fall. She counted with him between giggles, mainly when John started powerfully pushing himself up, his hands coming off the floor and clapping in midair before fall onto his arms again, Rosie accompanying the clapping. At the same time, Sherlock, lazily lying on the couch, smiled at the sound of his husband and daughter's laughs. 

"Papa!" called Rosie, "Come, we have to make the sun salutation."

Sherlock moved from the couch to join them, and the three of them performed the sun salutation, all three quickly passing through all the salutation positions until all three were back on their feet. When they finished, they clashed their elbows, one with the other as the five would have clashed in the past.

After a new bumper, _Night Time,_ Sherlock and John appeared curled up on the couch, Sherlock sitting, John's head in his lap. The doctor had his eyes closed, while the detective stroked his hair.

"The day after tomorrow, I'm going back to the hospital," the doctor recalled.

Sherlock wrinkled his nose and bent down to kiss John.

"I know. Rosie's going to miss you".

John smirked.

"And you won't?"

"Well, a little," both chuckled.

John looked at him.

"You can rest assured," Sherlock said, "Rosie will be well looked after. Virtual tea".

"I know. But until then... " John reached behind the sofa, pulled out the cowboy hat and put it on Sherlock, who got up and ran into the bedroom, chased by John.

Greg chuckled. When his work allowed it, he joined the "virtual tea" that brought together Sherlock, John, Rosie, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, Sherlock's parents, and his own daughter. It hadn't been easy to balance the schedules, especially when John and Molly were swamped at the hospital, and Greg was tirelessly supporting the emergency services.

Sometimes it was late afternoon, others lunchtime or early morning. Sometimes it was just a couple of minutes, and sometimes they had time to talk some more. It became a way of trying to normalize such an anomalous situation, supporting each other and avoiding anybody feeling lonely. They were joined from time to time by Mrs. Turner, or by Mrs. Hudson's sister, and even Anthea appeared from time to time without letting go of her precious mobile, thought Mycroft insisted that she rest for a while. Sometimes John's hospital companions also joined if they were lucky enough to have a quick rest.

When Greg came back to reality, Martha had turned off the TV. The woman sighed, put her laptop under the counter, and turned around to prepare the sandwiches. Suddenly she stopped and turned to Lestrade, Donovan, and the others as if she had realized something.

"You won't tell them anything, will you?"

Lestrade frowned. How could he not? Sherlock and John had to know the whole country was watching them go through the quarantine.

"I'm sorry..."

"Please..." begged Martha. "Nothing comes out... compromising, nothing... personal. When they play with the girl, when they exercise, or when the detective and Rosie play the violin, when they applaud the healthcare professionals, nothing else..."

"But it's an invasion of their privacy," Donovan replied.

The woman lowered her head.

"I know, but...." she wrung her hands on her apron, nervous. "You have family, friends... that makes this confinement… easier. But there are many, like me, who don't have family, who feel lonely and isolated, at home, at the hospitals... and watching them is... it's like having a family. For me, this time makes me feel less lonely; it gives me the strength to move forward and optimism for the future. And like me, there are many of us whose confinement is more bearable because of them. It drives us a way of dealing with loneliness and sadness.

Greg looked at her pensively.

"Please..."

The DI smiled. Amid that pandemic, anything that made people feel good, even those who were most alone, made them forget about fear and put aside anxiety and loneliness, was right. He would deal with John's anger and Sherlock's shock later.

He took his phone.

"Please, Lestrade," Donovan begged, looking at Martha, who smiled, grateful.

Donovan turned to Martha and smiled her. 

"Same time tomorrow?"

She smiled broadly.

"Of course. I will be waiting for you. Every day at eleven."

They came back to the squad cars.

"You're going to let them go on, then?" asked Donovan

Lestrade nodded.

"I'll just ask Myc to take a look at it, although I guess he already knows that."

Donovan smiled naughtily.

"Is it Myc yet? You're in a hurry, even being separated by the pandemic..." she joked.

Lestrade gave her a slap that she dodged, laughing.

"Hey, could you ask Myc for something?" she said the name with a tinkle.

Lestrade arched an eyebrow.

"What?

"To get a GIF of the... of Holmes in the cowboy hat screaming YIHAAAAAA."

Greg laughed willingly.

"I'll ask him. Myc is going to love it. And John, more".

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you are safe, stay at home, and this fic will help you make the quarantine more tolerable. In case you want to try the science time experiment, you can watch here the [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gwf8XsePpRs.).
> 
> The video is from an entertainment show in Spain called El Hormiguero, which has a science section and sometimes does experiments for children.


End file.
